That evening.
Celeste lay stretched out neatly on the living room couch, like someone mid-session with a therapist.
Across from her, Noah sat with one leg crossed, a half-empty glass in hand, watching her like a psychologist who already knew what she was going to say.
Her phone buzzed.
[Jinwoo: Busy tonight?]
She typed back casually:
[Yeah. On the way from interview? You must be tired. Go get some rest—we have an early flight. I'll come down to you in the morning.]
Jinwoo pressed the elevator button.
Nothing lit up. He frowned. Pressed it again. Still no sound. No movement.
"…Seriously?"
Just then, the doors slid open—silent and slow.
He stepped in, hit the 20th floor button. No response.
Annoyed, he smacked the panel with his palm. The doors shut, and the elevator began moving.
When it reached the top floor, it opened slowly again—quietly, without a single chime. And then, nothing.
The doors didn't close. The elevator just sat there, holding its breath.
From the living room, soft jazz floated through the air.
Jinwoo stepped out and froze.
There they were—Celeste and Noah—mid-conversation.
He didn't move. The elevator remained open behind him, the light from the hall casting his shadow just past the edge of the room.
Then he heard it.
"…Sometimes I wonder if I should just disappear."
Celeste's tone was light—but it wasn't a joke.
"Hey, don't say that,"
Noah said quietly.
"Do you not remember how they looked that day you went silent for 24 hours?"
"I do. That's why I'm still here."
A pause.
"…You're unbelievable. This isn't some tragic love triangle drama. Since when did rich people get so sentimental? What's next—you file all your taxes too?"
"Of course I do. I'm not trying to go to jail."
Noah chuckled.
"Wow. A billionaire who thinks taxes are a moral obligation. That's a first."
He took a sip and leaned back.
"Let me guess—you're stuck because you keep holding yourself to some moral high ground. You hate that you can't make everyone happy."
"It's not just like that. It is."
"You want to be the hero in both stories. But every decision locks something out. You open one door, and the other disappears. Pick red, and you lose blue. Simple as that."
Celeste exhaled slowly.
"I just… I don't want to hurt anyone. Jinwoo is Jinwoo. Daniel is Daniel. They both mean something different to me. I just want them both to be okay."
"You do realize how insane you sound right now, right?" he muttered.
"Worrying about a star and a chaebol—completely pointless. And yet, somehow, I'm doing it."
"Do you have a death wish, huh?"
Noah smiled lazily.
"For me, it's not even a hard question."
"…What do you mean?"
"Let's say I'm Jinwoo. You fall in love with someone else. But you still love me, too. And that someone else is your adopted brother. I can't just rip him out of your life. So I think about leaving. But the thought of losing you makes me feel like I'm suffocating."
"…God, you're such a drama queen."
"You think Jinwoo's the type to walk away? He'll stay, even if it's killing him.Because he'd rather bleed quietly by your side than live whole without you."
Noah's voice softened.
"Now let's say I'm Daniel."
Celeste looked at him, unsure.
"Come on, that one's too easy. He's not leaving. You've been the only reason he's held on to Langley all this time. There's nothing else for him—just you. And if you asked him to, he'd walk through hell barefoot with a smile."
She laughed, despite herself.
"God, where do you even get all these metaphors?"
"And now… there's me."
"…You?"
"Yeah. Why not? I'm the third option, right?"
He shrugged.
""Being near you—laughing, teasing, fighting a little—it's more than enough. I don't need a name for what we are. As long as I get to stay in your life like this… I'm content.""
"…Wait—why are you saying things like that all of a sudden?"
"Because it's true,"
he said, tilting his head.
"And you have this look—like you're standing in the middle of a storm, pretending you're not cold. I figured someone should offer you an umbrella. Even if it's invisible."
He smiled faintly.
"Let's be real. If you'd just gone full harem mode from the beginning, none of this would be a problem. Monday through Friday rotation, weekends strictly for self-care."
"Oh my god! You're unbelievable!"
Her laughter finally spilled over, warm and unguarded.
Behind the wall, Jinwoo still stood.
He looked toward the open space—the room glowing with low jazz and quiet confessions—then turned back toward the elevator.
He stepped inside.
The moment he touched the panel, the doors closed.
And it carried him back down—floor 19.